


beauty rooted so deep within you

by emmaofmisthaven



Category: The Expanse (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-04-17
Packaged: 2018-10-20 07:01:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10657356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmaofmisthaven/pseuds/emmaofmisthaven
Summary: The message lasts barely more than a minute, an invitation of sorts – everyone involved in the events that unfolded since Eros are now cordially invited to a celebratory evening on Luna, and that includes the crew of the Rocinante.





	beauty rooted so deep within you

When all is said and done, a message comes from Avasarala. It’s coming from too far away to be a two-way type of communication which, if Naomi had to guess, was the entire point. The message lasts barely more than a minute, an invitation of sorts – everyone involved in the events that unfolded since Eros are now cordially invited to a celebratory evening on Luna, and that includes the crew of the _Rocinante_. Avasarala looks as thrilled about it as Holden when he watches the message, and Naomi bites down a smile.

They can’t refuse, that much is certain. Not when they’re the poster children for everything this war represented – Earth and Mars and Belt coming all together in one crew, relying on each other to succeed. The fact that Holden is still seen as a hero and a martyr in the Belt doesn’t hurt either.

So Alex sets the coordinates for Luna. By the time they make it there, three full weeks of tensions and nervousness later, everyone had time to send messages to the right people and make plans. Holden had his parents ship his old naval uniform to Luna. Alex made sure his Martian one would be awaiting him on the little moon. Amos dipped in the join bank account to buy himself a nice suit.

Naomi still pretends she can just show up in her coveralls and be done with it.

She had a grand total of one nice shirt when she was younger, and she left it behind along with so many other things when she got off Ceres and never looked back. Now she has a grand total of four shirts, all with grease stains at best, blood stains at worse. And she’s pretty sure one of those shirts actually belongs to Holden and she just claimed it at some point.

Avasarala, of course, is having none of this shit – she tells Naomi so quite bluntly when Naomi shrugs with her hands at the older woman’s “What are you wearing?”. Bobbie, always unhelpful, just smirks at her over the Earther’s shoulder – she’s wearing the same uniform as Alex, of course, which makes it easier for her. Both to get dressed and to mock Naomi’s pain.

“Tonight, we’re showing them everything the Belt has to offer,” the older woman tells Naomi as she shoves a dress in her hands.

Naomi make a face at the obvious implication behind her words – Ceres’ whore houses are full of girls who are exactly like that, everything the Belt has to offer for curious Earthers and wandering Martians. “I’m not exactly sure…”

“Don’t argue with her,” Bobbie recommends, at the same time as Avasarala tuts her disapproval.

“Jimmy boy has been the fucking poster boy of this war for too long. Let’s give them another face to remember.”

Naomi’s cheeks heat up, even more so when she notices how very little fabric the dress actually contains. It takes a lot of arguing, and a lot of Bobbie rolling her eyes, before she finally manages to find something suitable to put on – something both she and Avasarala agree on, even if compromises are to be made on the accessories. Naomi never wore earrings before, and they feel heavy on her ears, the necklace almost choking her. At least she gets to wear comfortable shoes because, “I’m not that much of a sadistic fuck.”

By the time she makes it back to their suite, slowed down both by the heavy gravity and the constrictions of her dress, only Alex is in the room. He whistles under his breath at the sight of her.

“Damn, you do clean up nicely,” he tells her in that ridiculous accent of his.

“Not so bad yourself,” she replies with a tight smile.

He offers her his arm and a grin, and Naomi accepts both – her hand on his forearm as they make their way out of the suite and toward the large ballroom where the evening’s gala is held. Even used to the _Roci_ ’s state-of-the-art technology, she still gets thrown-off by how silent Luna’s station is compared to other stations. No venting system purring in the background, no reactors, no machinery to keep the white noise a constant. Just the silence that comes with expensive stations for expensive people. She wonders if this is what living on Earth feels like – being able to experiment complete silence at least once in your life.

Of course, complete silence is not on the table tonight, the murmurs of conversations and music growing louder with each step she takes until she can no longer ignore it, until she finds herself entering the ballroom. She blinks, once, twice, her brain barely able to comprehend what she is seeing – such a decadent display of wealth, from the champagne pouring freely to the food everywhere to the walls decorated with what can only be real, actual gold. She accepts a cup of champagne without meaning to, still staring at the high ceilings and impressive crystal chandeliers.

Only a soft, distinct, “Wow,” manages to get her out of her own thoughts. She turns around to find Holden in front of her. He looks nice and proper, naval uniform hugging his shoulders and cheeks freshly shaven, but the effect is lost on the way his eyes widen when they land on her body and linger for longer than is necessary.

The neckline is more plunging that she would have liked, showing more than she had hoped. Technically, she knows there is nothing wrong with her body – her bones are lighter, yes, and she is skinnier than women of Earth or Mars, but there is nothing particularly wrong with it otherwise. Hell, Holden seems to be liking her Belter boobs just fine, and it’s all that matters, right? Still, she feels naked and vulnerable with her breasts and her legs there for everyone to see, and the way her boyfriend keeps staring at her isn’t particularly helping.

He takes a few steps closer to her, until he is close enough to thumb the fabric at her hip and grin at her like the loon in love he definitely is. It doesn’t ease her nerves, not really, but it helps. Just a little.

“Hi,” he says, low and gravelly.

“Hello,” she replies, uncommonly shy.

She remembers a time on the _Canterbury_ , forever and a lifetime ago, when half the population was fawning over him just for a chance at getting noticed. And how he only has eyes for her now, how different things are today than they were before. She remembers a time before being in love with him – simpler times, where all that mattered was to keep the ice-hauler working and to keep herself off the radar. She wouldn’t go back, not even for the protomolecule, not even for the deaths and heartbreaks and tragedies.

Because it gave her that man, her man.

And perhaps it is all that should matter.

“Let’s dance,” he tells her now, finding his words before she can even clear her thoughts. Naomi wants to protest, to disagree, but his hand is already on the small of her back as he pushes her toward the other dancing couples, and she has no choice but to follow him, but to awkwardly wrap her arms around his neck the way she saw actors do in movies.

“I’m not really good at this,” she admits.

He just smiles, leaning closer until his nose brush against hers. He’s never kissed her in public – she isn’t one for public displays of affection and he respects it, even if Naomi knows he would be all over her given the chance – and he isn’t about to start now, in front of politicians and otherwise intrusive people.

“You’re doing great so far.”

“Smooth,” she deadpans, making him grin once more.

He leads her all through the song, even if it involves a lot of swaying on the spot and very few actual dance steps. Not that it seems to matter to him when he can’t take his eyes off her, when his hands are warm on her skin and he keeps murmuring kind words into her ear.

Naomi is thinking about making a run for it – they have been spotted, their job is done there – once the song ends, but then some diplomat comes to talk to them and, before she knows it, they are being paraded around the room like prizes and introduced to people whose names she forgets in a moment. Their only relief is when Drummer shows up, seemingly out of nowhere. Fred Johnson and Holden have been doing such a great job of avoiding each other up until now, but it doesn’t stop the OPA man’s second-in-command from hugging Naomi tightly when she sees her, and to ask about her in a voice that would be cold on any other person but actually sounds excited to Drummer’s standards.

And then, “Old nag’s coming your way,” Drummer says before disappearing.

“Let’s dance,” Naomi adds before dragging Holden back to the middle of the room.

His low chuckles follows her, but he doesn’t complain. And it’s good, seeing him without the shadow of Eros hovering over him, without nightmares in the corners of his eyes. She was afraid she would never see that version of him again – not broken, but changed the way they all were, him more than others. But this Jim Holden is still there, somewhere, and given the time Naomi has no doubt she will get him back. Fully.

“Show me those Earther moves Amos told me about.”

He laughs, and he does. Introduces her to a few basic steps when the music is slow and romantic, spins her when a Martian rock song begins, sings the lyric to her along with an old Earther ballad. She dances, and sings, and laughs so much her cheeks hurt and she is out of breath – it has very little to do with Luna’s gravity on her lungs this time, and a lot to do with the crinkles at the corners of his eyes and the way he grabs her hips a little too tight.

Maybe the dress was a good idea after all.

Even more so when, much later, he gets rid of it.


End file.
